


Hot For Teacher

by theangelofletters



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s04e13 After School Special, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-09 23:42:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2002557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theangelofletters/pseuds/theangelofletters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Much to Sam's displeasure, working as a PE teacher for this case has really distracted Dean. For one, at least 3 of the cheerleaders are legal, and there's one in particular that's caught his eye....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Truman High was the home of the Bombers. They excelled in nearly every sport in the district, both male and female. They prided themselves on having a state-winning football team and women’s soccer team, as well as a district winning cross country team and women’s basketball, softball, and a cheerleading team that had won several competitions during your career. But of course, Truman didn’t only have athletics. No, their choir and orchestra had both been given runner’s up at the state competitions, and the pep band was the envy of your end of the state.

Normally, when you walked the halls, they were filled with banners of crimson and white, most of them custom made by you and the rest of the cheerleading squad. It didn’t matter what season, sport, or competition was going on - each senior, each star was well-represented by you and your team when you decorated.

As of late, however, the halls hadn’t been filled with the excited cheers or the “Beat Jackson next week!” that was familiar throughout. Instead, it had been filled with black, with notifications of funerals, of solemn words and tears.

The deaths inside the school - just in this week - had taken your school by storm. If anything, it had made everyone a little more careful, a little less likely to step on someone’s toes.

You closed your eyes as your best friend led you down the hall, chattering on about something you probably didn’t care about. In all honesty, she was the perfect cheerleader stereotype: blonde, a little bit lower than average intelligence and a deep love for gossip. You, however, were a little less. You preferred classic rock over Jason Derulo and Iggy Azalea and reading over parties and booze and boys. But you’d joined the cheerleading squad as an eight grader in lieu of a gymnastics team and quickly risen to Captain by your senior year.

As she droned on, you envisioned concerts and the open road - anything but the monotony that was high school. You were zapped out of your daydream by the excited voice of your best friend. “What?”

She rolled her eyes, “Did you see him this morning?”  
  
You figured she was talking about her crush, so you just nodded. “Oh yeah, Daniel was wearing that sweatshirt today. It looks nice.”

Your friend sighed, rolling her eyes again. “Noooo, _____. Not Daniel - he’s old news,” she said, waving off her hand.

“Then who?”

“Substitute gym teacher,” she gushed.

You sighed, ”Seriously? The whole school‘s in mouring over Cassandra and you‘re talking about hot gym teachers.”

“I’m just trying to lighten the mood,” she defended. “So, he’s filling in for Coach B, the one that’s getting married? Anyway, he’s totes gorgeous and - “

"Probably married," you interrupted.

Your friend scoffed, “Do you think me that fickle? I was in the office when they hired him and the new janitor. I got to look at their records. He’s single, and of course he’s 30, so I know you’re gonna dig him.”

You smiled at her and shook your head. Of course, you did have a thing for older men and it had gotten worse since you turned 18 a few months ago, but your friend bringing it up at school, talking about one of your teachers, only made you blush and look down at your book as you walked to class.

“Don’t you have gym today?”

You nodded, “The period after you do. I have English right now.”

She nodded back and called out to you as you walked into your class and she kept on down the hall.

Fifty horrible minutes of _The Scarlet Letter_ later, you were walking into the gym for your class. Your friend was breathless and red-faced as she approached you, not even bothering to change from her gym clothes.

“Great class?”

She nodded, wild-eyed. “The new gym teacher rocks. He let us play dodgeball and it was way better than any cheer workout we’ve done this year.”

You smiled, “And it doesn’t matter at all that he’s … what was it you said? ‘totes gorgeous?’”

“Oh yeah,” she said with a grin. “Make sure you listen to that deep ass voice. It’s intoxicating.”

You rolled your eyes and walked to the locker room to change into your gym uniform. You heard the other girls whispering about a new janitor that had been hired overnight who was apparently as gorgeous as your new gym teacher was supposed to be.

You dressed quickly, filling in behind the other girls in your class as you walked out and stood in line so the new teacher could take your attendance. There were a few whispers, but they were all silent as the back door to the gym opened and he started to stride in, whistle and clipboard in hand.

He stood in front of your class, nodding as he set down the bag of dodgeballs he’d brought in with him and sized everyone up. You wondered if he was the type of gym teacher that would join in on the game. He looked incredibly fit, so you hoped he would. You narrowed your eyes, studying him a little more.

A quick exhale left your lips as you realized your friend had severely underrated this guy. Gorgeous was an understatement. He was much older than you, at least ten years older, and it should have repelled you that he didn’t have the smooth babyface of some of your classmates.

If anything, it had the complete opposite effect.

“My name is Coach David Roth, I’ll -“

You couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped your lips.

“Something funny?”

You nodded. “David Roth? I’m sorry - isn’t Van Halen on tour this week?”

A smirk played at his lips, “That depends, you Hot For Teacher?”

For a second, his joke hung in he air and you gave him a deep smile as the realization of his words started to paint his face. It started to redden, so you decided to save him.

You put up your hands, “Okay, you really got me now.”

He smiled at your use of another song title, “What’s your name?”

You told him your first name as evenly as you could, waiting for him to blow up about you picking at his name.

“Well, Miss _____, you caught me. First name is actually Dean. I thought David Lee sounded cooler… Anyway,” he said, turning back to the class, “I’ll be subbing for Miss B this week,” he called out, walking down the line of your class. “I’m sure you’ve heard from your classmates that we’re not going by the lesson plans Miss B left.”

An excited murmur swept through your classmates.

“However, I know that you guys are all seniors, so I’m not going to make you play kid games,” he said with a smirk.

“But what about the dodgeballs?” Amanda asked, putting a hand on her hip.

Coach Roth looked over at them and looked back at Amanda, smiling. “Dodgeball isn’t a child’s game. And to even further the competition, you’ll be playing with me.” The girls in the class all oohed and ahhed, which caused Coach Roth to break into a huge smile. He cleared his throat to try to appear modest.

He called the names on the roll sheet, and you felt heat pool between your legs with every syllable that came out of his mouth. You studied the shorts that were almost too tight on his ass, the polo that showed every single torso muscle he had, even the fucking sweatband and socks were starting to turn you on.

He called the name that you knew would be before yours and Daniel called out his presence. Coach Roth nodded, marking down and studying the next name on his list. A smirk started to pull at his lips, as he read your first and last name out loud. After a moment of looking on his paper, he turned his gaze on you.

His eyes were so green.

They captivated yours for a second (it felt like an eternity) before he cleared his throat and went back to the next name on the list. You made a mental note to ask him about it if you ever got him alone.

He instructed your class to start playing dodgeball as the back door of the gym opened, revealing a very attractive janitor. You figured it was the one the girls in the locker room were discussing, but you only had eyes for Coach Roth.

Soon enough, your glorious gym period ended. You were reluctant to change out of your gym outfit, not wanting to take it off after feeling Coach Roth’s eyes rake over your body while wearing it.

You had decided to keep it on, since you were just going to your history class and then to the track for cheer practice. 

You were the last of your squad to make it out to the track and you were unsurprised to hear all the girls talking about the gym teacher and how gorgeous he was. You blushed and looked down, quickly taking over as Captain and getting the girls started on basic cheers for the upcoming football game.

Halfway through the practice, you decided to let the squad work on stunts and set them into what they were supposed to be doing. As the oldest senior and Captain of the squad, your job was to oversee the practices and make sure everybody was in tip-top shape for the games.

You were leaned up against the fence when a rough, seductive voice whispered in your ear, “Squad looks great, Cap.”

You turned on your heel to see none other than the handsome gym teacher. “C-C-Coach Roth,” you managed to stutter out.

“Hello, Miss _____.”

The two of you stood awkwardly for a moment, neither knowing what to really say. Finally, Coach Roth cleared his throat, “Seems like you have good taste in music.”

“Yeah,” you said, smiling. “Dad was into the hairbands.”

He smiled, “Mine was too. It’s a wonder I don’t have a motorcycle and more tattoos.”

“You’d be alright with them,” you said. You instantly turned red and clamped a hand over your mouth.

Coach Roth just chuckled. “I think I’ll keep my Impala.”

You made a face, “What year? The new models suck.”

Coach Roth smirked and winked at you, “It’s a ‘67.”

“W-wow, holy crap,” you breathed. “I’d die for a car like that.”

“Ask your parents for one, or a boyfriend or something.”

You laughed, “I’m eighteen. My parents would rather die than make payments on an ‘67 Impala.”

He grinned, giving you a full view of those apple green eyes, “Eighteen. Right, I - uh , remember reading that on the call sheet earlier.”

He started to get a little flustered and aggravated, and you wondered how many times he’d actually flirted with a student before. He looked like he was usually very smooth with women - your age was probably putting him off.

So you decided to help him out.

“Yes, Coach Roth. I’m legal.”

He chuckled, “Please, call me Dean.”

You blushed a little, “Okay, Dean. I take it you’re not taking this kind of interest in all of your students.”

A smirk painted his lips as he shook his head, “No ma’am. Only the cute ones.”

You started to say something else when Dean’s cellphone started to ring in his shorts. He swore, excusing himself to take the call. He flipped it open, listening intently before muttering, “Hold on, Sammy.” He looked back at you, “Are you going to be in class tomorrow?”

You nodded, “Perfect attendance, three years running.”

He smiled, his green eyes twinkling in the sun. “See you tomorrow, Miss ______.”


	2. don't stand so close to me

Of course, nothing had gone like you’d hoped.

After Coach Roth - er, Dean - had said something about seeing you the next day, you’d happily dismissed the squad and went home. You spent 6 hours trying to write your paper on the feminine representation among Shakespeare’s antagonists, but instead you’d spent a half hour dutifully writing and the other 5 and a half hours imagining what Dean was going to do when he finally saw you alone.

Needless to say, the list ranged from banging you in the locker room to acting like you didn’t exist.

The next day, you woke up before your alarm. At first, you were filled with excitement at the possibility of another gym period with Dean, but when you checked your phone, you remembered that your squad was having a memorial after school.

You debated dressing up, but you doubted your classmates would be, so you just fixed up your hair and made sure your make up was done in the most natural way possible. Besides, you’d be in your gym clothes when you saw Dean anyway.

But like you’d dreaded, Dean had treated it like a normal day, as if you were a normal student. You started to wonder if you’d read Dean wrong. Maybe the flirty tone had only come off to you as flirty because you’d wanted it to be. Maybe you’d just imagined the whole thing.

So you had followed his lead and treated him like every other teacher. You called him Coach Roth instead of by his first name, and you saw his jaw clench a little, like he was trying to bite back a saucy comment. You had smiled at the power you held over him and realized that you hadn’t imagined it. The chemistry was there.

He’d let your class play dodgeball again, and even joined in on the game. When he separated your class, he put you on a team first, and then made sure your team had one more person than the other so he could fill in and play against you. It had helped your competitive side, and you were proud to say you’d gotten him out once.

It had been a nice stress reliever on the day.

Dean had released your class to the locker room to shower and change, giving you a little extra time to talk amongst yourselves since the dodgeball game had been so good.

Just as you started to follow the girls out of the locker room and into the gym, Amanda yelled out so loud that everyone in the gym turned to stare at her.

“Oh my God! Oh my God!” She cried out handing the phone to the nearest person - which happened to be you.

You read the screen and glanced up at the people - all frightened, all expectant to read whatever the hell was making Amanda freak out. Your eyes found Dean‘s, his green eyes radiating calm and in control while the rest of your class radiated panic.

He made his way through the crowd of students. ”_____, what happened?”

“I-It’s James… James Mason” you told them. “Michael Brusco attacked him in their foods lab. He-he stuck his hand in a blender.”

Everyone seemed to gasp in surprise - except Dean.

“When?”

You looked back at the phone, “The text message just came from Caitlin - they - they have class together.”

Everyone seemed to talk at once. Some people were crying. Steven - James’s best friend - had tears in his eyes and started to bolt for the gym door, dragging James’s girlfriend Madison with him.

You just looked at the phone, not really sure what to do. One student murdering another, one student putting another’s hand in a blender?! What the hell was happening to your school?

Dean’s voice seemed to reach your haze as he hesitantly touched your arm. “____, _____, are you okay?”

You nodded, looking up at him. His face was etched with worry, his eyes searching yours. You just nodded again.

He looked around to see that some of the students were still in the gym, awaiting instruction. Dean pulled you close to him and whispered, “Act sick,” in your ear.

You did as he said, closing your eyes and trying to take a deep breath as if you were trying to stop yourself from throwing up.

Dean looked around and raised his voice a little to quiet everyone. “Okay, I know we’re all a little shaken up, but the bell’s going to ring in a few minutes. _____ is sick and a little upset, so I’m going to escort her to the nurse’s office. If anyone comes by, tell them I left you guys to grieve and that you have my permission to stay here for the rest of the afternoon if you need to, okay guys?”

The kids around the class mumbled their agreement and watched as Dean slipped an arm around your shoulders and led you through the gym doors and down the hall.

You expected him to take you to the parking lot, to the office, anywhere except an abandoned classroom. But you followed, trying to look as sick as possible while you observed Dean get out his cell phone. He mumbled a quick swear, “Shit. Sam called - I missed it.”

He rolled his eyes and hit the first number on his speed dial.

“Sam, where are you?” He waited patiently for Sam to answer. “I figured you were in the middle of it… No,” he barked, looking up at the door frame as you passed through. “Room 201. Now.” He waited for no confirmation as he shut the phone and put it back in his pocket.

Sam only took a few minutes to join you, and you were surprised to see the handsome janitor stride through the door, nearly hitting his head on the doorframe.

“It happened again,” he simply said, looking at Dean. You wanted to ask him  _what_ happened again, but his fierceness was a little intimidating. His eyes left Dean’s for a second to focus on you, “Who’s the girl?”

"I’m ____," you said, calmer than you felt.

Dean opened his mouth to say something when the loudspeaker of the room started to buzz. “Attention all students and faculty. There will be a non violence assembly starting at 2 pm today. Please note that the assembly starts in 15 minutes in the gym. The attendance of all students and faculty is required. Thank you.”

You took a deep breath, “Great.”

Dean looked up at Sam, “Okay, ____ and I will have to go, but Sam, I don’t think anybody’s gonna care if you’re not there.”

“So what do you want me to do?”

“Keep your head, Sammy. I’ll go to the assembly, make sure nothing strange happens,” Dean explained. “I guess you survey the school, see what you find.”

Sam nodded to Dean before narrowing his eyes. “Be careful with students, Dean. We may not stick around, but she will.”

Without another word (and an eyeroll from Dean), Sam left the room, leaving the two of you alone.

“Are you okay?” Dean gently whispered, turning so he faced you.

You nodded suddenly away of how close he was. “This is just ridiculous. Macey was my friend, she was on my squad and now she’s - she’s dead. James probably lost a hand. I mean, what’s next?”

Dean took a deep breath and reached for your shoulder as the unwilling tears started to form in your eyes. “I mean, what’s causing this, Dean? I don’t - I don’t even -” the tears started to slide down your face.

“Hey… hey,” Dean shushed, his hand leaving your shoulder to brush the tears off your cheeks. “It’s okay. It’s okay, I promise.”

You took a deep breath, collecting yourself. “I think we should probably head to the gym.”

Dean nodded. “I think you’re right. Are you sure you’re going to be okay? I’m a teacher or whatever - I can give you a note to excuse you.”

You shook your head, “My friends and my squad will all be there. I’m the captain.”

“Okay,” Dean said, nodding again. You let him move first toward the door and followed him down the hallway, taking note of the sullen faces and tear stricken cheeks of your classmates.

-  
  
The assembly was longer than you thought it would be and twice as boring. Dean stood with the other teachers down on the floor and you sat with your cheerleading squad while the principal talked into a microphone about healthy displays of anger and aggression and how anyone with problems should talk to the guidance counselor. You tried to listen, but it was like the whole situation just wasn’t computing for you.

Your teammates were all looking anxiously at the principal, holding hands and putting arms around each other as they cried. You only had eyes for Dean and were unsurprised when his eyes never left yours.

So you just thought about him. Of course, the logical side of you knew that you _shouldn’t_ feel this way about a teacher, but Dean didn’t _feel_ like a teacher. If anything, you felt way more comfortable with him than anybody you’d ever dated before.

And what did Sam’s comment about “not being here” even mean? Yeah, Dean only had a temporary subbing job, but that didn’t mean Sam wasn’t going to stay or that Dean wouldn’t get hired on as a substitute some other time… Right?

Your thoughts were jumbled as the assembly started to end. You broke eye contact with Dean to look at your squad. Your best friend, Becky, who had been so excited about the hot gym teacher was looking at Dean too. She followed the trail of his eyes to you and you saw her face start to sit in a glare.

You started to say something to her, but the principal started talking again. Afterward, students were encouraged to stay in the gym, to talk about their problems or to cry with each other. The principal assured the student body that classes were cancelled for the day so teachers could stay in the gym to talk to students.

When she said it, Dean’s eyes flickered from yours to the north door, toward the parking lots. You nodded, giving him confirmation that you’d meet him as the principal dismissed the assembly.

As promised, you found Dean leaned up against one of the concrete pillars at the front of the school, barely keeping out of the rain and checking his phone for messages. He promptly hung up the phone when he saw you and looked around. Seeing no one, he opened his arms to you, letting you sink into a deep hug. You felt his lips brush your hair, and you hoped no one had been watching the two of you. Warmth radiated from him, sucking all the sadness and sorrow from your body and replacing it with pure comfort.

Too soon, he pulled away from you and searched your eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he mumbled, hands still resting on your upper arms.

You nodded, “I wasn’t that close to either of them.”

“It’s all going to be okay,” Dean assured you. “That kid with the hand thing is the last weird thing that’s going to happen around here. I promise.”

You narrowed your eyes, “How do you know?”

Dean shrugged, “I just have a feeling.”

The silence hung for a few more seconds before Dean cleared his throat. “Are you going to go home?”

You nodded, “I canceled practice for today.”

“Okay,” Dean whispered, squeezing your arms. “Do you need a ride home?”

You shook your head for a second before sighing. “Yeah, Becky drove me to school today. I doubt she feels like giving me a ride now.”

Dean frowned. “Why not?”

"She saw us looking at each other."

The color faded a little from Dean’s face, “Think anyone else saw?”

You shook your head. “She’s just grieving, Dean.”

Dean nodded again and pulled an arm around you, leading you aross the parking lot to his car. You were surprise to see the black ‘67 Impala he had told you about. It looked gorgeous and you were surprise to see Dean walk around to open the passenger door for you.

The car was warm and dry, very contrasted from the storm that was starting to gain strength outside. He started the car and listened to it rumble for a few seconds before pulling out of the parking lot and following your directions to your house. You noticed his hand grab yours on the seat, sending shivers up your arm. He held it comfortably, and you found yourself tracing patterns on his skin.

When he pulled up in front of your house, he looked around again. “Your folks home?”

You shook our head. “It’ll give me some time alone.”

"Good," he said. "Just relax for a while."

He reached inside the pocket of his track suit. He retrieved a card and handed it to you. You looked down and read “Dean Nugent, FBI Agent?”

Dean chuckled, “It’s a long story, ____. But the number’s right. Call me if anything…weird happens, okay?”

You nodded.

Without looking around, Dean reached forward, placing a quick and sweet kiss to your cheek. He pulled back, giving you a sad smile before watching you get out of the car. His eyes followed you up the walk, just before putting the car in drive and preparing to drive away.

"Dean!" you called out.

He abruptly turned. He raised his eyebrows to you.

"Will you come back tomorrow?"

He smirked and winked, “Of course. We have a dodgeball game to play.”


	3. Chapter 3

You were heartbroken when Dean had told you he wouldn’t be returning. You’d supposed it was for the best - he was nearly twice your age, after all. He’d assured you that all the crazy happenings would stop, that he and Sam (who he’d admitted was his brother) had fixed everything. He wouldn’t tell you how he knew, only that he knew and nothing else was going to happen.

Still, it was awful to feel his hands on your shoulders and the feel of his lips on your cheek one last time before he was gone forever. You moped your way through cheerleading practice and through the halls afterward to grab some books, pausing only to slowly use your locker combination. You reached for your statistics book before slowly leaning your head against the cool metal of the locker door.

Dean had sped off in his fast car before you even got to feel his lips on yours. The realization made hot tears spring to your eyes.

you took a deep breath, leaning back from the locker and grabbing your book again. You were eighteen years old. Dean was just a small (probably inappropriate and illegal) chapter of your life. _Even though he was perfect in just about every way_ , a small voice added in the back of your head.

You were about to grab another book when you heard the voice of Emma Walker ask, “Can you tell me how to find room 305?”

A familiar voice chuckled, “Sure - uh, head down the hall, take your first right, and it’s the third door on the left.

"Thanks, Sam," Emma responded.

Your head turned at the mention of Dean’s brother’s name, you cried out as you watched Emma pull a pen out of her pocket and ram it into Sam’s chest. He groaned as she pulled itout and offered him a creepy smile, one that didn’t usually paint Emma’s kind face.

"You got tall, Winchester."

She lurched forward, kicking Sam between the legs and hitting him backwards into a locker. You took your statistics book, thankful for all the years you played softball, and chucked it as hard as you could at Emma’s face.

Of course, it missed the mark by six inches, hitting her in the chest, but it distracted her attention.

Emma glared at you, narrowing her eyes. “You’re next.”

She advanced on Sam, who was wriggling on the floor away from her. You ran toward him, eyes on Emma as a black goo started to seep from her lips, painting that smile. As you reached Sam, you saw him take a vial from his pocket, pouring what you thought was salt into his hand. He said nothing, pushing you backward with his free hand as he pushed the what-you-thought-was-salt over Emma’s mouth.

Had you not been previously freaked out, you probably would’ve screamed that Sam was strangling her. But Emma, the kindest girl in school, just attacked Sam with a pen. So you kept quiet while Emma struggled, eventually seeing a dark figure leap from her body and disappear. Emma went limp in Sam’s arms.

You could feel your eyes widen as Sam turned back to you, gently sitting Emma’s limp body down. Blood was starting to seep through his shirt and you watched him put one hand over the wound, reaching the other out toward you.

Without knowing what else to do, you fell into Sam’s shoulder, body heaving with dry sobs.

He walked you toward the door, muttering something about finding Dean. You took a deep breath, collecting yourself as you pushed open the double doors for Sam to come through.

The Impala was parked on the curb, close enough that Dean could see your frightened expression. He was quickly out of the car, almost running toward you and pulling you tight against his chest.

"What the hell, Sam?" he growled, reaching a hand out to see Sam’s shoulder.

"Apparently we’re not done here," Sam replied, brushing past Dean and into the Impala. "And she saw everything."

You finally found your voice, leaning back from Dean. “What the hell was that thing?”

Dean took a deep breath, “Do you have anywhere we can go to talk?”

-

"Wow," you breathed. "Actual Ghostbusters."

Dean weakly chuckled, leaning his head back against the wall of your bedroom. “And here I expected you to go running for the hills.”

"This is just insane. A ghost, possessing kids. It’s a little much."

Dean just nodded. “I’m sorry you had to see it, and i’m even sorrier we’re having this conversation.”

"Why? You don’t think I can handle it?"

"No," he said, shaking his head and running his hand through his hair. "It’s just - it’s dangerous. I didn’t want you anywhere near any of this. I should’ve never talked to you."

You shrugged and stood from your bed, “It was inevitable - I’m into older guys.”

This provoked a smile from Dean, “Oh is that so?”

You smiled, “It’s a problem.”

Dean inched closer to you, stopping when his lips were just a breath away. “You know what my only problem with leaving Truman was?”

"What?" you breathed back, afraid to speak to loud, afraid Dean would leave again.

"That I hadn’t felt your lips on my skin, ____." His hand trailed up your shoulder, gently raking the skin of your neck. You moaned, encouraging him to pull you closer, to press your lips together.

It started soft, like many of the kisses you’d shared with boys your age. Dean was hesitant, but you attributed that to your age gap rather than inexperience.

Your hands found his chest and your entire body clenched at the pure _heat_ coming from his skin. You moved your lips against his, deepening the kiss as his hands pulled you forward, melting from soft and passionate to bruising and desperate.

You felt his hands leave your neck, wrapping around your back and trailing to your thighs. He applied enough pressure to show you what he wanted and you nodded against his kiss, eagerly letting him lift you and turn you against the wall. He kissed you hard, making you moan against his lips before sinking his head to your neck.His hands moved in time with his lips, grabbing your ass until you quietly, breathlessly moaned his name.

That seemed to spur him on - he growled against your skin, turning you from the wall and taking you to your bed.

You sighed when he gently laid you down, more gracefully than anyone your age ever had. You pushed at his overshirt, shrugging it off his shoulders and leaving him in just a teeshirt. You felt him pull at his boots, slipping them off with just his feet. They slumped to the floor of your bedroom as Dean hesitantly reached for your shirt.

"Are you sure, ___?"

You nodded, “Yes, Dean.”

He reached for your pants, unbuckling them and unzipping them, gently reaching his right hand down into them. He touched you, rubbing a finger against your slit as his lips assaulted your neck. You gasped when his fingers gently touched your clit, Dean chuckled.

"Is this the first time someone’s touched you, baby?"

You shook your head, “You’re the first one that’s ever known what he’s doing, D-Dean.”

Without another word, he plunged his fingers into your dripping center, groaning at how tight and warm you are. You reached down to pull your jeans down as Dean started to move. He worked your core, leaving you gasping and wondering how the hell he got so talented.

Your jeans finally inched down enough, Dean smiled against your skin, leaning down to breathe cool air on your center. You shuddered, arching your back at the sheer pleasure coursing through your veins. Your eyes fluttered shut for only a moment before Dean’s rough voice commanded you, “Look at me, sweetheart.”

You obeyed, watching as he lowered his head, sticking his tongue out to touch you, flicking at lapping at your clit. You tried your hardest to keep your eyes open, but Dean brought you so close - so close to reaching the peak that no boys had gotten you to.

Tighter, tighter, tighter, you squeezed your body, your head swimming between calling Dean’s name and remembering how to breathe.

All at once, it _snapped_.

Your body nearly exploded in pleasure, shuddering as Dean’s strong arms held you down to the bed, his tongue lapping up your orgasm, keeping the waves of pleasure coming until your vision went white. With one final jerk, your body stilled, save for your heaving chest.

Dean pulled his fingers from you, sucking them clean before reaching up to place a soft kiss on your lips.

"Wow," you breathed.

"First one?" he asked, lying next to you on the bed.

You nodded looking over to see his proud smirk. “Well, I’m not done yet, you know.”

You grinned, squealing as Dean launched himself back on top of your body, crushing his lips to yours once again. He palmed your breasts through your thin teeshirt for a few moments before giving up and reaching for the hem of your shirt. You moaned against his hot mouth, sloppily kissing him as you forgot how to breathe again.

Just as you reached for Dean’s belt, the door of your room flung open. Dean jerked, expecting your parents but finding only Sam, open mouthed and holding an important looking file.

“ _What, Sam_?” he growled, shielding your half-covered body with his.

"I - uh - I found something."

Dean looked back at you and gave a weak smile, “Raincheck?”


	4. Chapter 4

“Absolutely not,” Dean calmly said, looking across the table at Sam. “There is no way in hell that _____ is coming.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re not my dad, Dean. And I’m already involved - the ghost saw me.”

Sam groaned, “That’s right. It said you were next.” He looked across the table at his brother. “Dean, we can’t just leave her by herself when that bus comes by her house. God only knows what could happen.”

You just nodded along and glanced down at the file Sam had brought. All three kids who had been ghost-possessed all rode the same bus - which was enough of a lead for the boys to check out. The only snag on the plan had been you and your demanding to be brought along.

Truth be told, you really didn’t know why you wanted to go, but damn if you were going to let them leave you behind. This wasn’t your fight and honestly you knew as much about ghosts as a fish did about flying, but the very thought excited you. fighting evil, saving lives… It made your insides swim with anticipation.

Sam had been willing right away, saying that he and Dean needed all hands on deck. Dean just groaned, shaking his head and saying no, over and over.

“Dean, I can help. This ghost is after me, I - I can be a distraction, I can draw it in, it’ll be -” You looked at Dean’s intense stare and your words trailed off.

“Sammy, give us a few minutes alone,” Dean growled. His brother promptly obeyed and excused himself from your dining room and into the living room.

When Sam was gone, Dean took a few seconds before reaching across the table to grab your hand. The touch of his skin on yours sent shivers up your spine. You took a deep breath and stared at the contact, watching his thumb rub gentle circles on the top of your hand.

How could something like this happen? Dean was almost twice your age. Sure he was handsome, even for a 30 year old man, but you were barely an adult. There was something about him that called to you in a way that you’d never felt before, even with Jaime, your first boyfriend. Dean was just … different. He didn’t bore you or make you want to slam your head on a table. He was intelligent, he was rugged and rough around the edges, but he had a certain freedom about him that boys your age did not. Dean made you want to sit shot gun in his Impala and ride around the country like he’d told you he did with Sam.

Finally, Dean cleared his throat. “_____, we don’t even know who this ghost is. We may not even have to draw it out. We don’t need a distraction - we need to find out who it is and where the bones are. Do you understand? I don’t want to put you in the line of danger unless I absolutely have to.”

And you could hear the sincerity ringing in Dean’s voice. He was so protective… you liked that about him too.

“What am I supposed to do then?”

Dean shrugged, “Stay here all day, read books, watch tv, keep salt and iron on you. Sam and I should be able to track it all down by the time school’s out.”

You chuckled, “You’re kidding, right?”

Dean started to shake his head, but you started laughing. “I can’t miss school tomorrow Dean. First round of districts for the basketball team is tomorrow. The squad is riding the bus with the boy’s team.”

Dean groaned, letting go of your hand and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Well, I guess that keeps you away from the bus situation. You’ll be at your game, completely safe while Sam and I track this thing down.”

You smiled as Dean started counting out what you’d need with you for extra protection.

-

Neither of the boys knew the exact rules on ghost possession, but they both guessed it was similar to demon possession. They gave you a necklace that had a crazy pentagram-in-a-fiery-circle pendant and made sure you tell you (at least four times) how important it was that you kept it on at all times. Just to be safe, Dean gave you a chain made of iron for the pendant to hang on. Sam made sure you could fit a bottle of salt in the high tube sock of your cheerleading uniform and Dean gave you a thorough inspection of said uniform before you left for school.

His lips pressed sloppy kisses on your neck - you could still smell his toothpaste as he breathed. “I can’t believe you were holding out on me,” he grumbled, nipping at your skin.

You tried your hardest to concentrate, but the feel of Dean’s hands running up your bare legs and hooking into your spanx and skirt were enough to jumble your brain and turn it to mush. You deeply regretting sending him to the hotel before your parents got back from work, but surprising him in your cheerleading uniform at 7 am when he picked you up was completely priceless.

“I swear, _____, when we finish this job,” he moaned, biting up your jaw, “you are going to put that back on,” lips and tongue trailing to your lips, “and you know what i’m going to do?” he roughly whispered in your ear.

“Mmm, what?” you gasped.

“I’m going to show you how a man pleases his woman,” he whispered, rocking his hips against yours to drive his point home. You rocked back into him, desperate for some friction, but Sam called from down the stairs - it was time to take you to school.

Dean took a deep breath and pulled you against his chest before turning to the mirror. He studied your figures before chuckling.

“What’s so funny?”

Dean smirked, “You are _so_ 18 year old me’s type.”

You laughed out loud, pulling back so you could look in his green eyes, “Is that so?”

“Yep,” Dean nodded. “Cheerleader, digs all the classic hits, rockin’ body, and you get completely wet for my car. 18 year old me would’ve been all over you, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes and pulled yourself from Dean’s arms, brushing past him toward the door. Just before you passed him, you reached down and grabbed his dick through his jeans. “C’mon, I’m going to be late.”  
  
-

School was boring. You barely spoke to your friends, anxiously checking your phone for texts from Dean and watch for the last bell to ring. He had kept you updated when they found the bus and again when they tracked down the driver. He had explained it was just a matter of finding out who was the angry spirit and tracking down the bones.

He’d also went in explicit detail of what more he was going to do when he finally got ahold of you later that night.

The basketball game had even ticked by. It had been close, your school winning by only a 3 pointer, but you hadn’t been able to concentrate. You kept trying to check your phone instead of do cheers or watch the game.

But when it had finally ended, your squad and the basketball team were excited as they took the hour long bus ride back to the school. You texted Sam, letting him know that you guys had started home and you would meet them at their hotel room.

Everything was great.

Until your phone rang. You looked down to see Dean’s name on your phone and was hesitant to answer. On the one hand, you’d been dying to hear Dean’s rough voice since he dropped you off at school, but on the other hand he would probably just whisper dirty things to you and that simply wasn’t fair.

In the end, you ended up pretending he was your mom and answering.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Where are you?” Dean barked.

You looked out the window, “Just off State Route 1241, why? It shouldn’t take us too much longer to get back.”

“What bus number are you on?”

You tried to remember which bus you’d told your squad to catch earlier in the day, “I think it’s 2605.”

“Damn it!” Dean growled, startling you. “That’s the bus, _____. Stay calm, we’re coming up on 1241. I’ll be there soon, sweetheart. You’ll be okay.”

You took a deep breath, “Oh-okay Dean.”

He hung up.

You felt the bus accelerate beneath you, you looked over to see the speedometer increase, up and up till it was edging toward 85 mph. You closed your eyes, silently begging Sam and Dean to hurry, to find something to stop all of this.

As if your prayers were answered, something blew out the front two tires of the bus, then the back two. The bus slid and squealed down the road, finally coming to a complete stop. The coaches called out to make sure everyone was okay, but the bus driver had turned in his seat to face all the students. Like Emma the day before, you saw the same black goo oozing from this guy’s nostril.

“I told you that you were next,” he snarled, reaching down into your seat and grabbing you by your coat, ripping it in the process.

He drug you from the bus and into the abandoned road. You considered yelling for Sam and Dean, but you didn’t want to tip off the ghost that they were there. Instead, you waited for one of them to emerge.

You heard a shotgun load behind you, the driver turned you to see Sam holding a sawed-off, pointing it at the bus driver. He pulled you in front of him, as if to shield himself. “Dirk,” Sam called out.

“Winchester,” he said, pulling you closer. “What are you gonna do? Shoot me?” he pulled you up, “Or shoot the girl?”

“Don’t need to,” Sam smugly replied.

You felt arms pushing you away - you turned to see Dean pulling ropes on the bus driver.

“That rope is soaked in salt water, Dirk, you’re not going anywhere.”

Dean’s hands were instantly on your bare shoulders. For the first time, you noticed how cool it was out without your jacket. “Are you okay, ____?”

You nodded, rubbing his hands on your skin. Dean pulled back, shrugging out of his coat and wrapping it around your shoulders. He kissed your forehead, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I should’ve checked out the game and bus.”

“It’s okay,” you breathed against his neck.

Dean’s body left yours to go back to the bus, you presumed to find whatever part of the spirit was left on the bus. You heard him bark a few orders before yelling out, “It’s not here!”

"Where is it?” Sam snarled, still pointing the gun. You had no idea what he was talking about, but you assumed it was important, so you tried your best to look intimidating.

"Nowhere you’ll ever find it,” Dirk smugly said back.

Sam threw him up against the bus, barking for him to tell him. Dirk smiled, “Sam Winchester. Still a bully. You, you jocks, you popular kids,” he said, looking at you. You felt Dean’s arm sneak around your front, putting him between you and the bus driver. “You cheerleaders with open legs for teachers and varsity athletes… you always thought you were better than everybody else. And to you, I was just Dirk the Jerk right? Well, you evil sons of bitches are getting what you deserve.”

“I’m not evil,” Sam brokenly whispered back, lowering his gun. “I’m not evil, I’ve seen real evil. We were scared and miserable  and we took it out on each other - that’s high school. But you suffer through that and it gets better. I’m sorry you didn’t get a chance to see that. You or Barry.”

At that moment, the man broke through the ropes Dean had tied around him. Sam fired, once, twice, Dean roughly pushed you behind him, making sure nothing would harm you. The man fell, but said nothing. You wondered if it was over, gently grabbing Dean’s sleeve.

But It wasn’t.

Gary Oldson, a senior you had honors English with grabbed the back of Dean’s jacket that was draping over your shoulders. He slung you backward, your head hitting the side of the bus, then the concerete.

Everything went black.  
      
-  
  
You woke in an old motel room with a cold wash rag on your forehead. You hesitantly sat up in the bed, immediately regretting the idea when your head started to throb. Hands were instantly on your shoulders, pushing you back down. “Easy now, ____. It’s okay, you’re okay.”

“What the hell happened?” you asked, accepting the ice pack from Dean and pressing it against the back of your head.

“Dirk put you out and I nearly ripped his lungs out,” Dean grumbled, clearly still not happy.

“After that?”

“I burned the hair and carried you back here. Your friend… Bertha, Becky? Something like that, she said she would call your mom and say you were staying with her.”

“Becky did that? I thought she was jealous.”

Dean shrugged, “All I know is that you’re here and I was worried. Want some tylenol? A shot?”

You giggled, “Both, please.”

After you’d downed the tylenol and alcohol, your head immediately started to feel better. You looked down at Dean’s bare arm and noticed he had some stitch work done on his forearm. “What happened there?”

“Minor scrape. Sammy’s face looks pretty bad though.”

“Where is he?”

Dean smirked, “Library. Becky said she needed help with a paper, but that was last night and Sam’s still not back.”

You rolled your eyes, “Hope Sam’s down for the one night thing.”

Dean nodded, “Becky’s down for the one night thing?”

You just shrugged, “Football players are more her style, but Sam’s what? 25?”

“26,” Dean corrected.

“He’s 26 and big enough to be playing in the NFL right now, I’d bet Becky was all about Sam last night,” you laughed.

“Becky actually asked about you first.”

“What do you mean?”

“She asked if you and I were a thing.”

You grinned, that sounded like Becky. “What all did you say?”

Dean leaned over, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss started slow, escalading until Dean was gasping against your skin and you were running your fingers through his short hair. “I told her,” he breathed, kissing you again, “that we were going steady. It seemed to piss her off.”

You giggled against his lips, pulling him back on the bed, on top of your body. Dean happily complied, just barely stopping to make sure you were okay before almost attacking you on the bed.

There was no time left for laughing as Dean smashed his mouth to yours in a bruising kiss, wasting no time. He reached for the hem of your shirt and for the first time you noticed that the teeshirt you were in wasn’t yours. You blushed a little as you realized it must have been Dean’s - he must have dressed you. He pulled it off of you, fingers finding your breasts once more.

Heat coursed through you as you arched into Dean’s touch, gently moaning his name as your hands ran against his head. His lips left yours, tonguing one nipple and roughly teasing the other until you were arched into his body, your hips rubbing desperately against his. He gave the other nipple the same attention, sucking dark hickies into the skin of your breast.

He started to reach for your pants - you barely moaned the word no and he instantly stopped. “Is this too much, baby girl?”

You took a deep breath, head finally clear since Dean wasn’t touching you. “It’s my turn.”     

Dean narrowed his eyes, but complied when you rolled him over on his back. You reached for his shirt, pulling it over his head and exposing his smooth and tanned chest. You ran your fingers from his neck to his boxers, eliciting moans and goosebumps from Dean.

You stopped at the waistband of his boxers, thankful he wasn’t wearing jeans. His erection was easy to see, growing in the thin fabric as you slipped his boxers down around his ankles. Dean moaned as you gently touched your fingertips to the head of his dick, your other hand palming his balls. “Oh God,” Dean moaned.

You reached down to lick the head of his dick, enjoying the way his entire body tensed beneath you. “You like that, baby?” you asked, repeating his tone from when he teased you in your room. “Anybody touched you like this before?”

Dean gasped as you immediately put his cock in your mouth, sucking the head, hollowing out your cheeks as you took his length in your mouth. “N-No one who’s ever known what they were doing, ______,” he gasped.

You pumped him more with your mouth, touching his balls and relishing the way his legs tightened beneath you before being suddenly pulled away from him. Dean had you by the hips, immediately turning the two of you over and pinning you beneath him. You felt him reach over to the duffle on the nightstand and watched him roll a condom on himself before grabbing your panties and ripping them from your body.

“I’ve had enough teasing,” Dean snarled. “I’ve wanted you since I met you, sweetheart.”

“And I want you,” you moaned, feeling the head of his cock tease your center.

Dean leaned in, gently kissing your neck as he entered you. For all of his talk about being rough, he was gentle, loving and caring. He buried himself to the hilt, letting you adjust for a second before taking a steady rhythm, rocking his hips against yours. Your legs tightened around him, your arms pulling him as close as you could.

You arched, moaning as he hit the spot deep inside you. Once again, your body was Dean’s to claim as he rocked again and again, burying himself inside you.

You weren’t a virgin, but this was the first time a man had made love to you. The feel of Dean’s warm body on yours was almost too much - you could feel your body tightening in the same way Dean had made you before.

His thrusts started to get erratic, sloppy open-mouthed kisses pressed against your neck and mouth as he whispered your name. He unwrapped one arm from your back, his hand gripping your hip hard before coming between your bodies.

At first, you were unsure of what he was doing, but he silenced your questions with a kiss as he gently pressed his fingers against your clit. He touched you, timing his flicks with his thrusts until your body tensed, and tensed until it all just snapped, tumbling down once again.

You cried out and you were fairly sure you called Dean’s name, but your brain was mush again - you could’ve been calling for the president and you’d never know. Dean’s hips got even more erratic as he thrusted twice before coming inside the condom. He rode out his own orgasm, collapsing his body on top of yours.

He took but a second, rolling over and cradling you to his chest. You smelled like love, sex, and sweat - it clung to your skin and seeped in your pores, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. The only thing that mattered was the feel of Dean’s strong arms around your body.

When he finally caught his breath, Dean was the first to break the silence. “Sam will want to leave soon, you know.”

You sighed, you figured as much. “When will I see you again?”

He smiled, “I imagine I can get Sammy to stop by Truman High every few weeks.”

“Okay,” you agreed, snuggling into his chest. “Just until I graduate.”

“Then what?”

“We’ll figure it out,” you answered honestly. You had no idea what would happen - but it excited you.

Dean tapped on your shoulder so you’d lift up. You supported your weight on his elbows and looked in his eyes, “What, Dean?”

“Just promise me something, okay?” Dean’s eyes glittered with amusement.

You nodded.

“Just don’t tell anyone you banged your old ass gym teacher,” he smirked. “You never know when I might need that job again.

You grabbed the nearest pillow and chucked it at him, erupting into the biggest and best naked pillow fight.


	5. epilogue

Long distance relationships were hard.

You’d thought you learned that lesson your sophomore year when your senior boyfriend graduated and went to college. The few phone calls had came and went, eventually fading from a few hours on the phone to a “Hey, how are you?”

Dean Winchester was different.

Waiting by the phone for a college frat boy had been hard – you never knew if he was partying or in someone’s bed, or whatever – but waiting by the phone for a _hunter_ … it was damn near impossible to keep your anxiety from spiking.

Besides that, keeping your grades up so you could graduate was a struggle. You found yourself constantly minimizing your Sparknotes for Shakespeare and opening a tab to run some research on an old abandoned property wherever the boys were.

Like Dean promised, he came back to Fairfax, Indiana. Normally he came back every couple of weeks, sooner if he found a case in the Northeast or Midwest, longer if they were out west. Sometimes he came with Sam, sometimes he came alone. Those trips were your favorites. Depending on what was happening around the country, he’d stay anywhere for a few days to two weeks – but the job always called him back, always called him away from you.

But Dean was a good man, and he always made it back for the important things. He’d come back for Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s Eve, his birthday, Valentine’s Day, State Cheerleading Competition and your birthday. He and Sam took a week off from the job to meet you and your friends at Myrtle Beach for Spring Break. He’d stayed a week for your prom, sneaking away to take pictures with you and your dress, then renting a hotel room just for the two of you to drink and make love afterward.

The only thing that was left was your graduation.

When you’d gotten the invitations, Dean had given you the address to Bobby Singer’s home in South Dakota and requested you send a couple there so he and the boys could get them. He’d promised – more than once – to make sure that the jobs lined up so he and Sam could be there because he knew how important it was for you.

But his last phone call had been a week ago, and he’d been in Colorado. You’d ran research for the boys for a few days, avoiding the studying for your finals and figuring out the spirit haunting the Raymond Ranch was Jenner Raymond, who was hung in 1863. After that, you’d assumed the rest of the case would be a simple matter of digging up the bones, salting them, and burning them, then Dean would be on his way back to you.

No such luck.

You’d gotten a few text messages here and there, just enough to let you know that he and Sam were, in fact, alive, and that Jenner hadn’t been right. You had no idea if the boys had found the right ghost or if they were dead. It was eating at your nerves.

Gym class was even more of a drag since Dean left his substituting job. Mrs. B came back (married), and didn’t let anyone play dodge ball or have social hour or anything like Dean had. You heard girls on more than one occasion wish that the sexy gym teacher would come back to school.

Five days before graduation, you sat in the locker room, listening to the chatter around you. Some girls were debating their graduation dresses, some were talking about prom – still – and others were talking about college. You thought about joining in, but you already had a dress picked out, prom still reminded you of Dean, and you hadn’t even _thought_ about which college you were going to.

In all honesty, you’d decided a long time ago – before Dean had even entered your life – that you would need a year for college. You had to save up money, get the scholarships you wanted, etc. besides that, you didn’t even know what you wanted to _do_ with your life.

Amanda snapped her fingers in front of her face, “_____, you with us?”

You nodded, “Yeah, what?”

“Your phone’s been buzzing.”

You snapped into motion, grabbing your iphone from your coat pocket – nearly dropping it in the process. “Hello?” you breathlessly answered.

“Hey sweetheart, you busy?”

You smiled, realizing that some of the eyes in the locker room were on you. “Of course not, how’s Colorado?”

You heard a sigh, “Baby, I have some bad news.”

The color drained from your face, you lowered your voice enough so the other girls would go back to their conversations, “What’s wrong?”

“We finished the case in Colorado…”

“But?”

Dean sighed, “But one of our friends. Ellen and Jo need our help in Tennessee.”

“Tennessee?”

“Yep,” Dean answered. “They think it’s a nest of vamps – pretty damn big one too. Sam, Bobby, and I are headed down there right now, and I’m pretty sure Ellen called in a few more favors to help too.”

You sighed, “Graduation is Friday.”

“I know it, _____. Sam and I are gonna do everything we can to get back in time, okay?”

“Okay,” you answered flatly.”

Dean chuckled, “Have I ever let you down before?”

An unwilling smile crept to your face, “There’s a first time for everything, Dean.”

“Nope,” Dean said. You could hear the smile in his voice. “Not this time, _____. I’m gonna be there. Vampires be damned.”

“Okay, okay. I believe you. It starts at 5 pm. _Do not_ be late.”

“I won’t.”

“And wear a suit.”

Dean chuckled, “I’ll even wear that blue tie you like so much.”

You smiled and lowered your voice to a whisper, “The striped one you tied me up with?”

“Damn right,” Dean came back with. “I’ll put that graduation cap on you and tie you up again – how’s that sound?”

You heard sounds of disgust coming from what you guessed was Sam and a satisfied laugh from Dean.

“Sounds great, baby. I’ll see you Friday.”

“Friday, five pm, Truman high, Fairfax, Indiana. Don’t think I’ll forget, ______.”

You sighed, ending the phone call the way you always did, “Be careful, Dean.”

There was a chuckle on the other end as Dean came back with his almost signature response. “Always am. I’ll call you when I can.”

-

 **Friday**  
Your hair was perfectly curled, flowing down your back with your graduation cap pinned in place. You’d went with bare minimal make up, using only a little eyeliner and mascara to highlight your eyes. Your dress was perfect – a black, long sleeve, one shouldered dress that hit just above your knees, tight enough to show your figure but loose enough to flatter you. You wore the anti-possession necklace Dean had given you all those days ago, coupled with some pearl earrings he’d surprised you with on your birthday.

Everything was perfect. Not a detail was amiss. Except for…

The shiny, black Chevy Impala that was supposed to escort you to your graduation wasn’t waiting in the drive.

Your handsome date and his handsome brother weren’t waiting, leaned up against its hood.

In fact, you hadn’t even gotten a text message saying they were proud or they were thinking of you or anything like that.

At 4:30, you walked out of your bedroom and down the stairs to where your parents were waiting. Your mom complimented your dress and your hair, while your father hugged you tightly and whispered how proud he was. They walked with you to the family car, driving you to the high school.

Once you were there, it was all fake smiles and photo ops as your friends and classmates crammed for last minute memories. You held Becky tight as she threatened tears and even smiled at Amanda and some of the other guys from your class. You couldn’t escape the sinking feeling of dread – your boys weren’t present, they weren’t in attendance.

The music played and you walked where you were supposed to, taking your seat and listening to all the speeches before the principal started to call names and give out diplomas. You took yours eagerly, still searching the crowd for either of the Winchester boys, in hopes that they’d just arrived late.

Your phone stayed silent as the band played the Alma Mater and you slowly started to sink. Dean hadn’t made it – he’d missed your graduation. The realization hung with you as the principal announced you were official graduates and everybody flung their caps into the air.

All around you, friends started to embrace each other, take pictures, smile and cry. You didn’t really feel like doing any of that. You felt like going home and trying to call Dean.

Your parents waited at the top of the steps of the gym, smiling and congratulating you. You posed for the pictures, smiled, and announced you were ready to go home. You could tell that neither of them understood, and you didn’t expect them to since you hadn’t even told them about Dean, but they let you lead the way to the parking lot in silence.

The celebrations continued as friends, family, and classmates whooped and hollered, excited to be done with high school. You were glad to be done with school as well, but you’d had your heart set on seeing Dean, on making the night special with _him_ , but he was God knows where doing God knows what.

You sighed as you opened the doors to Truman’s gym, letting you out into the parking lot. You looked down at your wedges and shifted the graduation gown on your arm, ignoring the girls walking beside you until one word caught your ear.

“…Impala!” Casey Heckerling was gushing.

Your head jerked up, surveying the parking lot for the familiar black car.

Sure enough, right out in front of the school, the Chevrolet Impala that belonged to Dean Winchester stood. And sure enough, Dean Winchester was leaned up against the hood, wearing his best suit and your favorite tie. He carried at least a dozen roses in his left hand and a wide smile on his face.

You just stared at him, waiting for this figment of your imagination to disappear.

But his smile was replaced by the classic smirk as his right hand picked up and gave you a gentle wave, “Hey, sweetheart.”

You had to force yourself not to run across the parking lot, force yourself to stay in one spot. You were finally graduated, no longer a student – you and Dean didn’t have to hide your relationship.

“You’re late,” you called back. You saw several students turn their heads.

“Traffic was backed up, but I’m here. I had to see my best girl.”

Without another word, you ran to Dean as fast as you could in your wedges. He held out his arms, picking you up and spinning you as he pushed his lips to yours in a bruising kiss.

He’d made it.

Just like he’d promised.

-

The hotel room was quiet for the first time in _hours_.

You kept your eyes closed, relaxing as Dean’s fingertips trailed lazy patterns across your back. You hand rested on his chest, your head on his shoulder.

The only sound was the hotel’s A/C unit, buzzing as it kept the room at 72 degrees and Dean’s heartbeat beneath your ear. What had been thundering and pounding a few hours ago was reduced to a quiet _thump, thump,_ almost lulling you to sleep.

You yawned, a rough scratchy sound coming from your throat. You’d screamed Dean’s name and moaned and gasped until your voice was completely hoarse. Dean’s was much the same, but his hoarse voice was sexy enough to make you want to go another round, so you shushed him while your bodies recuperated.

Dean’s head turned toward the nightstand, finding the alarm clock that read out 3:37 am. You had told your parents you were at Becky’s graduation party, but you’d really stolen back to the motel room with Dean. Thankfully, they’d asked no questions about your _date_ , and you were pretty sure they hadn’t even seen the kiss.

“This is nice,” Dean hoarsely voiced, the first words in at least thirty minutes.

“Mhm,” you hummed back, snuggling into his chest.

His arms wrapped tightly around you and you felt his lips brush against your forehead. “Where’s Sam?”

“Caught a ride with Ellen back to South Dakota. He didn’t want to interrupt us tonight.”

You blushed – Sam wanted to give you two alone time. “That was nice.”

Dean roughly chuckled, “Sort of. He knew if Becky saw him again she’d be all over him like she was at Christmas. And he knew he’d be jealous if he could hear the way I made you scream.”

You blushed even deeper, memories of Dean pounding away at your center flying back to you. You smiled – you were pretty sure the whole hotel had been able to hear your desperate, primal pleas for Dean to pleasure you, and you were _definitely_ sure they had heard his.

“I wish we could do this more,” he murmured, fingertips idly tracing your skin again.

“Me too,” you echoed.

Dean adjusted himself, rolling over so he was on his side, facing you. “Sam had an idea, you know, since you’re taking the year off.”

“What’s that?”

Dean cleared his throat, reaching for your hands. “I know you like Fairfax, but – uh, Sam suggested we take you to Bobby’s. You – um – well, it’s closer, and you could help Bobby with research – “

“Why don’t I just go with you?” you interrupted.

Darkness clouded Dean’s eyes, “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

He leaned back, sitting up against the headboard, “_____, it’s bad enough that you _know_ what I do for a living, even worse that you _help_ with research. I’m not going to let you be a hunter. It’s too dangerous and I can’t – if we fooled around and you got hurt… just – just no, okay?”

You looked up at him and reached up, cradling his face. “Are you that worried about me?”

Dean nodded with somber green eyes, “I can’t – I _can’t_ let you get hurt, _____. I’ll keep you safe. You’ll be okay at Bobby’s – easier to visit, to stay with. There’s even a community college right down the road. You already know a lot about different creatures, so you can learn some more and help him out when different people call. I’ll always know where you are and you’ll never be in danger and I –“

“Okay, okay!” you said, silencing him with a laugh. “I’ll do it, Dean.”

His head jerked back to you, “Really? You – you’ll come?”

You smiled, “Of course not. I’m not afraid.”

Dean waggled his eyebrows, “Not at all? You’d become a hunter _right now_?”

You nodded and chuckled, “I ain’t afraid of no ghosts.”

Dean buried his face in your neck, surprising you. You shrieked and laughed as he tickled you, kissing your neck. It didn’t last long before the kisses got needier and needier, sloppier and sloppier against your skin. Your hands gripped his shoulders hard, pulling him to your body.

His naked form slid against yours, you could already feel his erection on your thighs, letting you know that he was ready for the third round of the night. You could feel heat pooling between your legs, letting you know that _you_ were ready to go too. You pulled Dean’s face back to yours, kissing him deeply and passionately as he entered you, making love to you for the third time that night.

He held your hand with his right, wrapping his left around your body. He rocked you against him, moaning your name almost as loud as he had been earlier. There was an urgency in his voice, desperately making love to you. You could feel _lust_ , _love_ , and pure _need_ course through Dean’s skin, searing your own.

When you finally found your release, you collapsed on the bed, Dean beside you. You were both completely spent.

Dean’s arms held you tight, his stubble scratching against your neck, giving you one last kiss as you began to drift.


End file.
